


contact precautions

by Belmont



Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse)
Genre: Atmosphereic Drabble, Character Study, During Canon, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-21
Updated: 2019-03-21
Packaged: 2019-11-27 04:46:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18189950
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Belmont/pseuds/Belmont
Summary: You were never sorry at all.





	contact precautions

**Author's Note:**

> With the recent release of the RE2 Remake, I got deep into RE lore again and fell back in love with my depressing science boy Dr. B (pre-G, of course) .
> 
> Its been almost five years give or take since I've written him, so I decided to pop this little drabble out of my brain to get back at it and unwind. This is somewhat based on headcanon, but also based on canon information we're given (I kind of focused on the tone the emails/notes left behind that seemed to be or were stated to be from Dr. B)
> 
> This is meant to take place within the weeks leading up to the events of RE2.

Slide clipped into place on the stage, condenser on, coarse focus adjusted. 

Oh, yes. The specimen was superb. 

Little more than a protozoan mass- unmoving within its permanent heat-fixed prison. He’d initally ran a sample of it through a negative stain just to observe the shape, the size, the degree of anomaly in this particular piece of scientific gold. This one was even better, standing a beautiful safranin pink against the translucent backdrop of the glass. This was one of the first steps toward seeing a completed version of the ‘G’. An isolated, infected ‘G’-cell.

He settled back, letting his gloved hands move off the scope and onto the desk. Even from beneath the splash visor, William Birkin looked extremely pleased. Deranged, even, but his lab technicians didn’t dare say a word to the doctor while he shakily whispered to himself and fumbled for his notes.

Cold baby blue dashes cutting into them when they stared- everyone trying to look busy to avoid scrutiny. There were rumors that his mind was long lost, and each day it seemed more likely those rumors were true.

Umbrella insisted he keep technicians. If it were up to him, he’d have been alone with the precious ‘G’ from day one. Still, he was running low on options. Right now, even, they had him in a pay-freeze for insubordination. Fucking ridiculous. 

”Nicole,” His voice was strained, quiet. “Look at this, quickly.” 

The technician immediately dropped her work, placing the centrifuge tubes down in the holder and pulling up her visor as she approached the man in the same way you’d approach a rabid dog. Eyes focused on his, movements calculated and slow. She knew he ordered technicians to be killed for making him paranoid, but she also knew his pool of Umbrella resources was running dangerously dry. He needed every body in this lab, for assistance or for experimentation. 

”Come,” She moved to where he directed her, peering through the scope at the little mass of cellular detritus. “- it’s amazing, isn’t it?” 

”It is.” She agreed by default, faster than she should have. His hand came to rest on the slope of her shoulder, using her as a support to remain upright while he scrawled some unintelligible dashes against the paper crushed beneath his other wrist. 

The smell he was giving off was equivocal to formaldehyde and sulfur- not unlike a corpse. He was dying for this stupid project, spending hours alone in the labs and in NEST. Losing his mind, killing himself. She wondered if he ever had a single regret in his miserable life.

He had a daughter, did he ever think about that little girl? Her father was literally dying for his work. 

The hand slid to her lower back, and she realized he was using the lab table to brace most of his weight. Behind the visor, he was blanching. “We’re so close, Nicole.” 

With a sudden, sad sound of submission, the doctor slipped away from her and onto the lab floor in an unmoving pile. She remained still for a moment, eyeing his fainted body with a physician’s scrutiny. The other technicians didn’t move to help him until she stepped away and nodded to confirm his unconsciousness. 

This wasn’t a unique occurrence anymore. 

-

He sat alone in the laboratory prep-room, a fluid IV in his left arm and a folder of notes in his right hand. He was medically unfit to continue his research. Umbrella was planning on giving him a final warning soon enough. Everyone saw it coming, but he kept on trying to look away. 

One more week, one more day, one more hour. Please.

Bloodshot eyes rolled toward the ceiling. William thought of his daughter, and the last time he’d seen her. 

Months ago. She cried when he left, but he’d noticed she seemed over it as soon as he’d gotten in the car. She was such a brilliant little girl, so much like her parents. Annette’s smart eyes, his wild freckles and silly laugh. 

But she didn’t need him. 

‘G’ did.

-

Five calls to his office phone. One message. The voice was subtle and familiar, sounding soft and drained of energy. For some reason, it left Wesker with a bitter sense of nostalgia. Or maybe that was agita- these days all his emotional inclinations were starting to feel exactly the same.

’Wondering how you’ve been. You don’t call anymore, though I figured as much.’ Will wasn’t expecting pity, no, he knew Albert far too well for that. 

‘I just wanted to tell you.’ A long, slow inhale. The S. T. A. R. S. captain could visualize the rise and fall of his former colleagues shallow chest. ‘You were right about it all, Al. I should’ve listened to you. I… I wish I had listened to you. I’m not sure where I should go from here now that the research is nearly complete. I really wanted to hear your thoughts--’ The recording was manually silenced from the receivers end. 

Enough of that, thank you.

”You’re a little too late, Will.” Captain Albert Wesker deleted the message and call history off the console. There was to be no record of his interaction with an Umbrella employed Virologist at his work station. 

”A little too late.”


End file.
